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From the way of Go the beauty of Japan and the Orient had fled. Everything had become science and regulation.

Yasunari Kawabata

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Yasunari Kawabata
Age: 72 †
Born: 1899
Born: June 11
Died: 1972
Died: April 16
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Ōsaka
Beauty
Science
Become
Everything
Way
Orient
Fled
Regulation
Japan

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I wonder what the retirement age is in the novel business. The day you die.
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And I can't complain. After all, only women are able really to love.
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Lunatics have no age. If we were crazy, you and I, we might be a great deal younger.
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I suppose even a woman's hatred is a kind of love.
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Along the coast the sea roars, and inland the mountains roar – the roaring at the center, like a distant clap of thunder.
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It's remarkable how we go on year after year, doing the same old things. We get tired and bored, and ask when they'll come for us
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A secret, if it's kept, can be sweet and comforting, but once it leaks out it can turn on you with a vengeance.
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The true joy of a moonlit night is something we no longer understand. Only the men of old, when there were no lights, could understand the true joy of a moonlit night.
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Our language is primarily for expressing human goodness and beauty.
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A child walked by, rolling a metal hoop that made a sound of autumn.
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But a haiku by Buson came into his mind: 'I try to forget this senile love a chilly autumn shower.' The gloom only grew denser.
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THE TRAIN came out of the long tunnel into the snow country.
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Maybe vagueness has been good for me. The word means two different things in Tokyo and Osaka, you know. In Tokyo it means stupidity, but in Osaka they talk about vagueness in a painting and in a game of Go.
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Now, even more than the evening before, he could think of no one with whom to compare her. She had become absolute, beyond comparison. She had become decision and fate.
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They were words that came out of nothing, but they seemed to him somehow significant. He muttered them over again.
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Because you cannot see him, God is everywhere.
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But, drawn to her at that moment, he felt a quiet like the voice of the rain flow over him. He knew well enough that for her it was in fact no waste of effort, but somehow the final determination that it was had the effect of distilling and purifying the woman's existence.
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People have separated from each other with walls of concrete that blocked the roads to connection and love. and Nature has been defeated in the name of development.
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A poetess who had died young of cancer had said in one of her poems that for her, on sleepless nights, 'the night offers toads and black dogs and corpses of the drowned.
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The snow on the distant mountains was soft and creamy, as if veiled in a faint smoke.
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